


Dyed in the Sea

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Time To Take It All [6]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Established Relationship, F/M, Kinktober, Leather, M/M, Multi, WorldWarThreesome, ww3some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 08:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: The leather jacket wasn't Steve's, even though it looked better on him than it ever had on Bucky.Then again, maybe it looked even better on Carter.





	Dyed in the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvsanime02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/gifts).

> For Ro.  
Fuck, dude, I'm so sorry.
> 
> Now beta read by the AMAZING RO

* * *

* * *

He really should have seen it coming.

But it was one of those things he and Steve didn’t talk about.

They didn’t talk about Azzano. 

They didn’t talk about Zola.

They didn’t talk about the fact that when,  _ if _ , Bucky managed more than half-hour naps and actually fell asleep, he shouted himself awake.

They didn’t talk about how Bucky flinched away from any touch.

They didn’t talk about the implacable cold calm that settled over Bucky when they were on a mission.

They didn’t talk about how quickly that evaporated post-mission and left him a jittery, smoking wreck.

They didn’t talk about Steve’s new body.

They didn’t talk about Steve’s old body.

They didn’t talk about the looks between Steve and Carter.

They didn’t talk about the past.

They didn’t talk about the future.

They barely talked at all.

And Bucky knew it was his fault, knew the barrier of unspoken words between them was a thing he’d started and a thing he was terrified to breach.

But every day that passed… well, it was another day that led Bucky further from the man he’d thought he was.

This, though - this was something he’d known would happen since the day he and Steve had walked into camp and Bucky led the cheers for  _ Captain America _ .

There were perks to being Captain America’s best friend. Perks too, Bucky supposed, to being the best sniper in the US Army. Perks like getting to bunk with an officer instead of being shuffled into the makeshift quarters the rest of the Commandos - Falsworth excepted - were trotted off to whenever they came back to camp or, rarer, leave.

They were in London for seventy-two hours, on-leave for the most part - the other part being Steve sitting through briefing after briefing while the boys got up to no good and Bucky charmed and harassed quartermasters and black market smugglers into getting the supplies the Commandos would need when they were deployed again.

Steve had been assigned a swank room at the Berkeley Hotel and, as per their usual and unspoken agreement, Bucky was staying there with him. 

He’d had every intention of sleeping on the couch, but Steve had shoved all of their gear onto it and glared at Bucky until he stripped out of his clothes and hugged the edge of the bed farthest from Steve that first night. 

It was another thing they didn’t talk about.

It was another reason Bucky should have seen this coming.

Steve was still at HQ, so Bucky had returned to the room alone, bartered goods in tow, and he opened the door to find no less than Peggy Carter draped over their bed like some fantastical spread from a Tijuana Bible like Steve used to get paid to draw.

They stood there for a long time staring at each other.

It was a lot for Bucky to take in.

Carter’s long legs were bare save for her stockings and the garter belt that held them up. Hell, she was nearly naked - only the sheer stockings and a well-worn, brown leather jacket adorned her lithe body.

“Close the door, Sergeant, you’re letting in a draft.”

It was impossible not to look at her, to watch her blood-red lips form the precise words.

It was just as impossible to resist the order.

So Bucky closed the door, and locked it for good measure.

He had no damn idea what to do. Ever since Carter had looked past him like he was invisible, had treated him exactly like the ghost of the man he truly was, Bucky had done his level best to steer clear of her.

Not easy to do  _ now _ , not since he’d locked himself inside a room with her.

Still, he did his best. He dumped his rucksack onto the couch and dug around until he found the cigarettes he’d managed to win off of some spectacularly bad poker playing American GIs.

He lit one up, taking his time, savoring that first heady drag.

“The way Steve tells it, you had legions of women waiting for you to favor them with your company back in Brooklyn. I’d assumed he was exaggerating, but not lying completely.”

Bucky looked over at Carter, still lounging on the rumpled sheets as if she was a princess at her leisure. The look she was giving  _ him _ made Bucky want to walk out of the room.

He was a lot of things. A lot  _ more _ things these days. But he wasn’t a coward.

“You’re Stevie’s gal. I’m not taking anything away from him.”

“I belong to no one, Sergeant, and I’m hardly a ‘thing’.”

Bucky fought to keep his breath even.

“So this is all some game for you? String along Captain America until you’re bored, and then-”

“Sergeant, I’m here, aren’t I?”

He snorted a laugh.

“Sure. Naked in our- in his bed. Talking to  _ me _ . Wearing my jacket, by the way.”

She arched one perfect eyebrow and ran her smooth, pale fingers over the butter-soft leather. 

It was the jacket Steve had worn the day he rescued Bucky.

The jacket Bucky had left behind for Steve, in a stupid, unwanted act of… something, the morning he’d shipped out. He’d known Steve would never wear it. He had enough of Bucky’s hand-me-downs as it was, but Steve had always liked it when Bucky wore that jacket and… hell, Bucky had been dumb and sentimental and wanted Steve to remember him.

“I know whose jacket it is,” Carter said, and her eyes stayed locked with his. “Steve said you were rather… fond of the fact that he had taken to wearing it.”

Bucky swallowed hard.

Sure. That was true. One of the few things he  _ had _ managed to say to Steve. 

He didn’t know what it made him, the way he obsessed over his best guy - the man he’d loved since they were boys, the man who he used to be able to pick up and hold while they fucked, the guy now bigger than Bucky and stronger than any man on the planet - fill out the jacket in ways Bucky never had and sure as hell didn’t now.

Bucky had told Steve to keep it.

That Carter was wearing it now… hell. Bucky didn’t know what it meant.

“You want one?” Bucky asked, holding up his cigarette, turning away from whatever she was trying to drag him into.

Carter got up from the bed, and hell.

Bucky had known she was gorgeous, had suspected she’d be the stuff of dreams naked, but seeing her walk towards him in the open jacket - dark curls shadowing her sex and full breasts swaying with each step - it would take a stronger man than him not to  _ want _ .

She took the cigarette out of his hand and took a long drag, eyes locked on his.

“We can share,” she said among a cloud of smoke.

Bucky felt his mouth go dry.

“Keep it,” he said, and stepped back.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Sergeant Barnes.”

“Agent Carter.”

“Shall I be blunt?”

He snorted a laugh, though he didn’t feel all that much mirth.

“Don’t tell me this is you bein’ subtle.”

Her lips curved into a slight smile.

“Steve loves you.”

“We’re best friends,” Bucky shrugged, toeing the company line that he himself had insisted on.

“Yes, yes. Of course you are. Best friends,  _ lovers _ . I’m not going to take him away from you.”

Bucky swallowed back a hundred things he wanted to say.

“You should,” he rasped.

Carter put one slim hand against his stubbled jaw, made him look her in the eyes.

“No,” she insisted, “I shouldn’t. And I won’t. We’re going to share him, Sergeant.”

“I don’t take orders from you, lady.”

That earned him another arched eyebrow, and Bucky had the feeling he was going to be regretting those words for the rest of his - hopefully short - life.

“Very well. If you don’t want to share him, then we won’t.”

That felt… entirely too easy. And wrong.

Carter stubbed out the end of the cigarette in some fancy glass dish and shrugged off the leather jacket.

She held it out to him, uncaring that she was naked before him.

“All yours,” she said.

“No. That’s not-  _ No _ .”

She shrugged, and just lifting her shoulders and letting them fall again was too sensuous for Bucky to bear.

“As I said, it’s your choice, sergeant. I won’t take him from you.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Bucky found himself begging, found his heart racing and his palms sweaty, and hell, he wanted to run far away and fast.

“Please what, Sergeant?”

She seemed perfectly content to just stand there naked, the leather jacket held out between them.

“I’m no good anymore. Never really was, but now- Just- Please.  _ Please _ .”

She stared at him, and Bucky was positive she could see it all - every awful part of him that Steve was blind to and that Bucky could never hide from.

“Doesn’t it matter what he wants?” Carter asked, voice soft.

Funny how Bucky struggled to breathe when she looked at him like that and asked something that should have been easy to answer.

Because what Steve wanted was  _ all _ that mattered, all that had ever mattered to Bucky.

But Bucky… he wasn’t  _ Bucky _ . Not anymore. Not ever again. And there was no way in hell Steve could want what he was now. Not if he really knew.

A key rattled in the door and Bucky stumbled forward, grabbed the jacket out of Carter’s hands and wrapped it around her.

Steve opened the door and stared at the two of them - at Bucky’s hands holding the jacket closed, at Carter smirking at him.

“Hey,” Steve grinned, and kicked the door closed.

He looked like it was Christmas morning. Like the Dodgers had won the World Series. Like Bucky had just fucked him into delirious joy. Like they were at Coney Island and the sun was shining down on them, and they had enough money for ice cream.

Carter lifted her hands to Bucky’s, wrapped her fingers around his wrists and squeezed.

Bucky tore his gaze from Steve’s bright face and looked down at her.

“You can let go, Sergeant,” she said. 

He stared at her hard enough that he started to feel a little dizzy. But she didn’t let him go, and she didn’t look away.

Bucky drew in a shaky breath and relaxed his grip on the leather.

“Yes, ma’am.”

-o-

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Someday I WILL write porn again. And it's not like the rest of these ww3some fics haven't also been angsty as all fuck but... yeah.  
I'm so sorry.


End file.
